Too Many to Count
by silbecoo
Summary: Jake has a quiet chat with six drink Amy. One-shot. (No longer a one-shot... added a second chapter)
1. Chapter 1

Gina was wrong about one thing. Six-drink-Amy was not sad or even miserable. Six-drink-Amy, while she didn't come out to play very often, was just Amy, magnified by fifty or a hundred, an amount relative to the alcohol content of whatever she'd been guzzling.

So yes, tonight six-drink-Amy was lonely, her bleary eyes lighting on her fellow cops one after another, each a reminder of how far she'd drifted from her five year plan. Her career was on track, sure, but her personal life was a mess that she usually avoided contemplating. At the moment though, the liquid courage coursing through her veins was quickly transforming into a depressing dose of liquid reality.

And yes, her eyes did keep drifting back to one officer in particular, his loud obnoxious laugh landing on her ears every five minutes or so. She really should have just snuck away, climbed carefully back up the stairs and slipped into one of the waiting beds while everyone continued to enjoy themselves. She could feel herself being a wet-blanket, dragging down Gina's "party mood," casting baleful stares at Rosa every time the other woman smiled shyly down at her phone.

She was sullen, sure, but her closed mouthed behavior was actually the only saving grace in this situation. If she gave voice to the thoughts rolling around in the soup she called a brain, things would get awkward to a degree that she was _not _prepared to handle. Somehow, as the evening had progressed, the captain had been wrangled into a game of beer pong, nearly everyone shuffling outside to watch at he carefully bounced the little white ball expertly into the waiting cups.

Gina actually, was the last to abandon Amy on the overstuffed sofa. Amy felt the cushions shift around as the other woman rose from the couch. Gina tugged at her, cold slim fingers wrapping around her wrist with surprising strength. "Come on, Santiago, stop being a party pooper, let's get your ass outside."

Amy shook her head, the misery that had begun to abate returning once again in full force as she stared down into her cup. "It's too cold."

Gina merely shook her head, tugging Amy up violently. "Come on, loser, I broke into Charles's ex wife's bedroom and 'borrowed' a few of her furs. When you put them on you can _feel _the cruelty coursing through your veins. It'll do you some good."

Amy did rise this time, but she didn't follow Gina to the sliding glass doors. Instead, she slipped her hand from her friend's iron grip, and turned toward the stairs she'd been eyeing for the past hour. "I'm gonna just… go to bed."

Not one to exert energy where it wasn't effective, Gina rolled her eyes and let Amy go, muttering something about missing an opportunity to get their "Cruella DeVile" on as she dragged on one of the voluminous furs.

The stairs were harder to manage than she'd initially thought, each step waivering before her eyes as she blinked furiously to regain focus. She really shouldn't have continued drinking as the night had gone on, but she thought she could push past six-drink-Amy's melancholy and find a carefree state. It certainly hadn't worked.

Clutching the bannister, she climbed onward, picturing herself as a stoic mountaineer intent on mounting the peak. She let go, leaning forward to go at it on her hands and knees. This was much easier. She reached the top landing in a matter of minutes, sprawling out across the polished hardwood.

"Amy?"

She groaned, squeezing her eyes shut tight, and prayed that she was having an auditory hallucination. Dropping her forehead to the cool floor, she took a few shallow breaths, thinking maybe if she were as still and quiet as possible he would go away.

"Everyone was outside, and you were just… missing. What are you doing in the floor?"

She rolled to her back, staring up at her interrogator in the dark. He looked strange looming from this angle, a lot taller than usual, his hands braced on his hips like some worried den mother. "Laying…"

Her hair had come loose from it's tie, a whole swath laying across her face, pieces falling in her mouth as she tried to speak. She struggled to bat it away and right herself. Strong hands looped under her arms, lifting her with surprising ease into a standing position.

Well, not standing exactly, more like hanging. She clung to his shoulders, trying and failing to get her feet under her. Jake shifted, holding her tighter. She could feel each breath he took, a little labored from the physical effort. "God, Santiago, how much have you had to drink? I've never seen you like this."

"I lost count, after Boyle's orange liqueur shot." Her nose crinkled, the memory of the flavor still lingering in the back of her throat. Suddenly she was too tired and queasy for conversation, especially with the one person she'd studiously avoided while schnockered. "Take me to bed, where I can slip into a coma."

Jake laughed, this time the sound wasn't as obnoxious as she remembered, in fact she would have called it warm if anyone ever bothered to ask. She instinctively laid her head on his shoulder, slumping into his embrace.

"'_Take Me to Bed Where I Can Slip Into a Coma' _the Amy Santiago sex tape." He snickered, moving them gently down the hall. "Although, that one's a bit of a mouthful. Not my best work."

Giggling, she pulled her head away. " '_That One's a Bit of a Mouthful'_ the Jake Peralta sex tape." She dissolved into giggles, finding that unknown-number-of-drinks-Amy was kind of an idiot. Jake didn't seem to mind though, squeezing at her shoulders as he turned her to face forward.

They stumbled across the threshold of the guestroom, Jake trying and failing to find the light switch in the dark. It was fine, Amy knew where the bed was. She'd scoped out her quarters before joining in on the festivities, carefully laying out her pajamas on the quilted coverlet.

She fell on the mattress, sweeping the pale pink jammies into the floor. Her feet kicked out, wiggling fruitlessly in an effort to remove her heavy winter boots. She grunted in frustration, too dizzy to sit up and remove them like a normal human being.

Before she could say anything, Jake knelt down beside the bed, fumbling with the laces before tugging the clunky things off. They dropped to the floor with a muffled thump, and Amy drew her legs up beneath her. "Thanks, Jake."

"Anytime, Ames." His reply was a little weak, his voice surprisingly soft as the nickname passed his lips. He cleared his throat, speaking more clearly. "That is, anytime you're three sheets to the wind and wearing hiking books."

Something heavy and soft landed on top of her, the fuzzy warmth tickling against the bottom of her chin. She looped her fingers through the loose knit of the afghan, formerly spread across the loveseat in the corner. Jake must have tossed it over her, knowing she wasn't coordinated enough to find her way under the fancy coverlet.

"Jake?"

He stopped on his way out the door, turning toward the direction of her voice. "Hmm?"

"Sophia's lucky, she's.. she's…" Her throat closed up, tears threatening to cascade down her burning cheeks. She quickly covered her face with her hands, hoping he couldn't see her embarrassment in the dark.

The mattress shifted, dipping down on one side as Jake took a seat beside her. "Amy-"

She cut him off. "Oh my god, no, forget it, please."

"No, look. We have awful timing… I'm sorry that's messed things up for you. I feel…" He searched for the right words. "guilty?" It turned into a question, and he shook his head. "You know what I mean."

She nodded, wishing a black hole would spontaneously open up under the bed and suck her down into it. She wanted to tell him to forget about it, to go back downstairs and enjoy the rest of their weekend away, but that was really hard when words wouldn't form. She blamed it on the last shot of kahlua Rosa had thrust into her hands.

He kept talking. "But you know… hindsight, and everything. You're gonna find some great guy, one that always wears matching socks like a nerd, and has an itinerary for every major trip. He'll leave you silly notes on the bathroom mirror, and sing you songs when you're sick. Teddy was just… a bump in the road. "

The room was too quiet, a ticking clock hung on the wall made her aware of every mortifying moment that passed. Her hands grasped the afghan and pulled it over her head, hoping it worked like an invisibility cloak.

"How about we make a pact? In five years…. if you're still single, and I'm still single…" Jake got quiet, listening for Amy's shallow breaths. The blanket crept down slightly, revealing to wide eyes, glassy with alcohol, reflecting the gleam moonlight from the window. He had her attention. "We find each other, no matter where we are…" He broke into a broad grin. "And we kill each other."

She relaxed, the air seeping out of her like a punctured balloon, a matching smile spreading across her face. Her hand shot forward. "Deal. Let's shake on it."

And they did, the pleasant warmth of Jake's firm grasp setting her at ease. She was drunk enough to make stupid decisions, like pulling him down to her and kissing the living daylights out of him, but she didn't. The image of Sophia hung firmly between them. She settled for giving him a quick squeeze. "I'm glad we're friends."

"Me too."

**A/N: Thanks to anyone who read this. I don't often write for B99, and never continued that other fic I started for it (oops) but I still shop Jake and Amy because they're adorable, and after that last episode felt like writing a little one shot. (also, uuuh, yeah I ripped the pact thing from the Mindy Project bc it was one of my favorite scenes.) Please feel free to let me know what you think, comments and suggestions are cherished. **


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: I just had to write a companion chapter after I watched the latest episode. I really enjoyed writing this, and I appreciate the encouraging comments on . As always, all feedback is read and cherished.**

Amy shucked off her jacket. For the middle of February it was a surprisingly balmy night, the slight breeze pleasant against her cheeks as she walked happily down the sidewalk. Who needed power posing lessons anyway? She walked with her head held high, a little self satisfied smile pulling at her lips.

Everything was definitely coming up roses. She laughed. Meeting Gina at the bar seemed like the perfect way to celebrate her win today. She'd even changed before leaving the station, a cap sleeved dress and modest little heels altering her posture and her mentality. The other woman had promised to show her a few power poses of her own, although, knowing Gina that could mean one of a thousand things, most of which were probably illegal.

A gust of cool wind whipped up, sending a cascade of shivers up her spine as she rounded the last corner, closing in on the dark little bar her colleagues often frequented. Tonight it seemed pretty packed, people milling around outside chatting. Lots of hands clapped on shoulders, one armed hugs, and the occasional burst of raucous laughter. It was pleasant.

Just as her hand lit on the heavy brass handle of the dark oak door, her phone chimed. Reading a text message from Gina was always something of task. Her proclivity for emojis over words was something that made Amy appreciate the codebreaking seminar she'd taken at the academy.

One sad cat face, two syringes, one bowl of soup, and the universal symbol for sleeping, the triple Z. Apparently Gina was sick. Amy's face fell, her whole posture deflating with disappointment. She supposed she was in for another night at home, watching Ken Burns documentaries (and maybe marathonning _Dance Moms_… that was one she would lie under oath about).

Her fingers had barely slipped off the cool brass of the doorknob when the door itself began to swing outward. She jumped back, narrowly avoiding a broken nose. Fully prepared to give the overeager civilian a piece of her mind, she took a deep breath, only to let it out in a surprised gasp as Luke Meriwether strode out onto the sidewalk.

Amy had always had a thing for the big burly bartender. His biceps did the most wonderous thing to tshirts, which in turn did more than a few things to her, things that left her tongue tied steamy under the collar. Her mind blanked, eyes lingering on those very appendages. They strained under the weight of something much less attractive.

A stinking drunk Jake Peralta.

Her eyes widened in surprise. "Jake?"

His name did little to bring him back to the real world. Head lolling, his chin dipped down to his chest. Luke really was doing all the work here, Jake's feet barely dragging the ground with each step. Her squeak of surprise did however catch Luke's attention, relief softening the expression of irritation on his face.

"Oh, thank god, Officer Santiago."

Momentarily forgetting the little tableau around her, Amy blushed at the way he said her name, the heat setting her ears on fire. She stared at him like an idiot, a smile once again finding it's way to her face. "Yes?"

"Officer Peralta… We had to cut him off, and he got a little loud about it…" Luke shrugged as he explained himself.

Amy didn't quite register his words, instead focusing on the throaty sound of Luke's Brooklyn accent. He was a character right out of her wildest fantasies, big and brawny like the man on the cover of the romance novel she kept tucked under her mattress. She bet he kissed like he spoke, firmly, decisively. He was still speaking as she continued to moon over him, and it was only the awkward silence that made her realize he'd asked a question. She snapped out of her reverie. "Oh, sorry, um… What?"

"You're cops and all. I figured I'd give him a break, but he really needs to get outta here. Could you…?" He trailed off, his question fairly obvious.

Amy nodded, for the first time really noting Jake's appearance. He was a mess. His hair lay plastered to his forehead with sweat, his body sagging like a limp rag doll in Luke's grasp. A stab of sympathy hit her right in the gut, and she reached out to touch him, fingertips tracing along his cheek. "Oh, Jake… come on."

His answer was a bit garbled, followed by a long and almost heartbreaking sigh.

She led Luke to her car, thankfully only parked a block over. Luke deposited Jake in the passenger seat of her sedan with the ease of a mother putting a child down for the night, even buckling him in for good measure before shutting the door firmly.

Amy watched all of this with fascination. It was odd that someone could be so huge and yet so gentle. He caught her staring again and, wonder of all wonders, he blushed slightly. Shuffling awkwardly, he tucked his hands under his arms in defense against the nonexistent cold. "Uh, I don't know if it matters, but he's been babbling about someone named Sophia all night. Seems pretty torn up."

Amy nodded. "Yeah… breakup. I guess it hit him harder than I thought."

Luke laughed, then squelched it, eyes wide. "That's not funny. I wasn't.. I mean… It's just, until tonight, I always thought you two had a thing." Sidling over to her, he leaned against the car, sort of half boxing her in, close but not too close. "It's why I never asked you out. Didn't want to step on any cop toes."

There was something about the way he said "cop," like there were a couple extra syllables in the middle. Gina would have described it as panty-meltingly sexy, and Amy snorted with laughter at the very thought. It was hard to imagine Luke being intimidated by Jake. The badge certainly did a wonderful job augmenting the authority one carried. "Oh, yeah, I'm sure if you ever hit on his girlfriend he would arrest you immediately for soliciting."

Luke shook his head, laughing. "I'm still surprised though. There was always something… about the way he looked at you… It felt very territorial."

Amy's smile faltered somewhat, a somewhat melancholic sigh escaping her as she toyed with the door handle of her car. Luke nodded, stepping back. "That's what I thought… Have a good night officer Santiago."

She watched him walk away with some regret, a little voice in her head screaming at her to chase after bartender and slip her phone number into his back pocket. It was the same voice that ticked off the number of days since she'd been on a date… and other things.

But, as much as she would have enjoyed spending some quality time (quality with a capital Q, it had been months after all) with a man like Luke, there was someone else who needed her immediate attention. It was hard for her to admit it, considering their history, but she would pick Jake over some devastatingly hot bartender any day of the week, especially when he needed her like he did tonight.

Sliding into the driver's seat, she slipped the key easily into the ignition, turning the engine over before she even glanced in Jake's direction. On the plus side, he appeared to still be conscious, which would make getting him up to his apartment much easier, but he was still plastered beyond belief, his head currently cradled in his hands.

Amy pulled out into the street, turning toward her own place. She reasoned that Jake did not need to be alone tonight, and besides, her apartment had an elevator and his didn't.

Amy worried at her bottom lip, driving in silence as she tried to decide whether or not to broach the subject of Sophia. Unable to control her naturally meddlesome nature for more than a few minutes, she burst out in a mini-deluge of words. "Jake, you know it's going to be fine right? I know how it feels, but it does get better."

His head popped up at her words. The silver tracks of still wet tears glinting on his cheeks, the light from the dashboard giving him an eerie greenish glow. "I know." His voice was raspy, roughened by more whiskey than Amy dared contemplate, a thick lump clearly sticking in his throat. "I told her I loved her."

Amy bristled at this, her hackles rising in jealousy. She mentally chided herself, shrugging off the feeling. She sensed there was more, and didn't reply.

He sniffled, the unattractive sound of snot constricted airways filled the silence in the car, and he dropped his head back down into his hands. His words came out muffled this time. "Like three times… and she never said it back."

Amy's own throat tightened up at this, tears of pity pricking the back of her eyes. Oh poor Jake. She wanted to give him a reassuring hug, but instead settled for a quick squeeze of his forearm. "Hey…" There really weren't any consoling words for this kind of thing. She just wanted him to know she was here.

They pulled up to her building, blessedly finding a close parking spot. Amy wasn't prepared to drag a fully grown inebriate any real distance. She quickly exited the vehicle and strode around to the passenger side, but, much to her surprise, Jake already had his door open, and was pulling himself up.

He stumbled out onto the concrete and would have fallen if Amy hadn't ducked under one of his arms, bracing him as she took some of his weight. "Here.. lean on me. It's not far."

He complied, sluggishly following her all the way to the stoop, blinking in confusion as they mounted the steps. "This isn't my place."

"No, Jake, you live in a walkup, and I wasn't about to drag your ass up four flights of stairs. You can sleep on my couch."

She fumbled with her keys, jamming one in the door to the tiny lobby. It twisted, but not all the way, the ancient mechanism sticking. She cursed under her breath. Shifting against Jake's weight, she turned and headed down the steps with him.

"Huh?"

She responded to his inarticulate question a little grouchily. "The damn lock's jammed, happens once a week at least. We'll have to go in the back door."

She felt him shaking beside her, and worried for a moment that he had lapsed into sobbing. Amy couldn't handle when other people became overly emotional. She could never figure out what to say. Peeking over at him, she was relieved to find that the shaking to was the result of laughter.

Arching one eyebrow curiously, she asked, "What's so funny?"

He straightened, getting his feet under him somewhat better as they slipped into the alley beside her building. "_We'll Have to Go in the Back Door_' that's definitely _not_ the title of the Amy Santiago sex tape."

She rolled her eyes, feigning indignation to cover the relief she felt at his change in demeanor. Finding the alternate entrance to the building, Amy whipped out her keys again, slipping one easily into the lock. Tenants weren't supposed to have the key to this door, but after getting locked out one time too many, Amy had barged in on the super, flashed her badge about, and demanded a spare key to the maintenance entrance.

She smiled at the memory, swinging the door open. "Voila!"

The elevator bank was only a short distance from the entrance, and in a matter of minutes they were safely ensconced in the little ascending cube. The harsh lighting seemed to bring reality crashing back down on Jake, whatever mirth he'd been experiencing vanished like evaporating water.

Not restrained by her seatbelt any longer, or adherence to traffic laws, this time Amy did draw Jake infor a hug. Pulling his forehead down to rest on her shoulder, she drew broad circles with the flat of her hand on his back.

She had suspected that his drunkenness was merely exacerbated by his current state of misery, and that he was not in fact as inebriated as he seemed. She'd seen Jake get shitfaced before, and he'd never been like this. Her theory was proven correct, when his arms traveled around her, hugging her close.

"Thanks, Ames." He sighed into her ear, the hot breath setting errant strands of hair to quivering.

It would be so easy to pull back, just an inch or two, and set her own lips against his whiskey soaked ones, to curl her fingers up into the hair at his nape and draw his face to hers. She knew he would respond, eagerly probably. Luke was right, there was something here, but Amy was reluctant to have him this way. So freshly hurt, wounds out in the open air. Still, it was a hard decision to make.

Walking out of the elevator, they parted, Amy's only concession to the temptation she faced was fingers of her left hand interlaced with his. She reasoned he was still unsteady on his feet and needed help getting to her door.

"Come on, Jake. Sleep will help. Thing always look better in the morning."

He nodded, trailing after her.

She felt safe again, the precarious moment of bad judgment having passed. Without bothering to turn on the lights, she led him to her couch, settling him against the overstuffed throw pillows and draping her cashmere throw over him.

Just as she was about to get up and leave him to his much needed rest, she felt a hand on her wrist, pulling her back down to him. His other hand reached for her face, and he trailed one finger down her cheek. "For real, Amy. Thank you."

Unable to stop herself, she turned her face into his palm, pressing a gentle kiss there before pulling away. "Any time, Jake."


	3. Chapter 3

**A/n: this story is growing out of my control... another chapter, and this one is simply a transitional one.**

Weddings. Depending on the person, they could be a catalyst for some pretty major things. To Gina's aunt Lorraine, crying into her champagne while her sister slow danced with her new husband, they meant soul crushing sadness with a faint hint of unadulterated self loathing. Yet, for the small group of single friend's Gina had invited, it meant dancing like they were nineteen again, and pretending they weren't wearing spanxx as they grinded on the nearest warm body. And yet again, for the studly group of firemen that had been invited for her own amusement, it meant throwing back burning shots of cheap whiskey while scoping out possible hookups.

But for Gina, weddings meant something entirely different. She would never admit it to a soul, and short of hooking her up to the station's decrepit lie detector there was no way of proving it, but weddings made her feel all warm and gooey inside. A cadre of enamored little butterflies flapping away in her stomach as she watched people so sickeningly in love. She hated it more than anything in the world, and if she'd been able to admit her shocking weakness, she would have said it was initially her biggest objection to her mother getting remarried. However, third time being the charm that it was, Gina had high hopes that she'd never have to endure another round of nuptials as long as she lived.

The only thing that seemed to absorb the disgustingly sweet puddle of hearts and flowers swimming around in the pit of her stomach was alcohol, and if there was one thing that Gina had made sure of, it was that there was an open bar at her mother's reception. If she was going to get through the entire night without broadcasting the saccharine thoughts circling in her mind, the images of picket fences and tire swings in big back yards, she would need gallons of her favorite spirit. Pinnacle cherry whipped vodka. Besides, it complimented her mother's favorite coconut cake perfectly.

So maybe she'd knocked back at least two bottles of the delightfully sweet concoction, and maybe her powers of perception were lessened slightly, but even a blind man wearing Ray-bans in a dark room could see Amy and Jake skirting around each other, both casting shy little glances in the other's direction when they thought no one was looking. Gina had lost count of the number of times she had caught Amy doing this, the dark haired officer jerking her head away in embarrassment, cheeks aflame. It was downright pathetic, and much to her irritation it dampened the effects of her vodka guzzling. The first time she got caught in the crossfire of Amy's love-eyes, she felt her heart grown an entire size, the infrequently used organ aching for her lovelorn friend. It was un-fucking-acceptable.

What more did Gina have to do. She'd forced Amy to change out of that grandmotherly getup she'd been wearing, given her one of her favorite dresses. Those sheer panels were like magic portals to the land of confidence, the peekaboo curve of underboob was just the thing to draw in a neanderthal like Jake. So why the hell were they being so delicate with each other? She just wished Jake and Amy would get their shit together and bone in the coat room while the check girl popped her gum disinterestedly. But this was Amy Santiago, and a tumble in the coat room was a scenario that even Gina found hard to imagine her partaking in… sober that is.

She stomped over to the bar, stretching out languidly against the slippery surface, a bright grin spreading across her face as she eyed the bartender. Luke was a sight for sore eyes, built like a firefighter, but with an intelligent spark behind his silver eyes when he asked her what she wanted to drink. In the wild, a.k.a. a dark and smoky bar on a Saturday night, "What'll you have?" would have been a pretty close approximation to the Linetti mating call, but Gina had been reluctant to hire him for the wedding, feeling like it would be an unmitigated disaster if she got all love-woozy in his presence. She made a mental note to visit the bar the next time she was at full boss-ass-bitch capacity. He turned just in time to see her climbing up and over the counter.

"Hey! Watch it Linetti, you're gonna hurt yourself."

He caught her as she slipped down behind the bar, broad hands spanning her waist. "Mmm, you watch it, Handsy McHanderson." Finding her footing, she balanced on her six inch stilettos, somewhat amazingly considering her alcohol consumption.

Luke let her go reluctantly, hovering for a second until he was sure that she was steady. "'Open bar' doesn't mean anyone can come back here."

She placed a hand on his chest, eyes narrowing as she leaned forward. "Remember who signs your paycheck buster, and point mama to where you've hidden the bottles of liquor."

He rolled his eyes, bending down to pull out another one of the blue bottles. He didn't immediately hand it over though. "Don't you think maybe you've had enough? Don't get me wrong, I expected you to be sprawled out on the floor like an hour ago. Color me impressed, but still…"

She shook her head. "It's not for me. It's for the uptight little princess blushing in the corner over there." She pointed to Amy, her words dripping with self loathing. "I'm totally gonna help her find love tonight."

Luke's eyebrows shot up in shock. "What? I didn't know you swung that way."

"What you know and what you don't know is of absolutely no importance at the moment. Amy would be the luckiest little beyotch on the planet if I set my sights on her, but no that's not what I'm talking about." She shook her head sadly. "She's head over heels in love with that idiot braying like a donkey over Charles' story about 'accidentally' trying on his mother's nylons when he was thirteen." Gina glared in Jake's direction.

Luke laughed. "Tell me something I don't know."

"What?"

He merely shook his head, a funny little smile on his face as he wiped down the counter. "Go be Amy's fairy godmother, or matchmaker or whatever."

Gina shrugged, and struggled to lift herself back up on the bar ass first. It was a lot harder while holding a bottle of vodka. Just as she was about to give up and walk all the way down to the gap at the end, she felt those broad hands planted firmly on her glutes, this time lifting her up. She clutched at his arms for support. Damn.

He leaned back, producing a business card from thin air and tucking it just under the strap of her dress. "Call me when you're done being cupid."


	4. Chapter 4

Amy Santiago was a good detective. Her perception of the world was honed to a fine point. Each detail she took in almost instantly became an integral part of the bigger picture. She'd closed countless cases with barely enough evidence to fit in a shoebox, her mind stringing the limited pieces together until they led her straight to the criminals in question.

So, she had no idea how she'd allowed herself to be drawn into such an obvious trap. The only thing she could attribute it to was Gina's stunning ability to lie through her teeth even under the influence of an alarming amount of disgusting distilled spirits.

Instinctively, she drew up her right wrist, squinting in the dark as she tried to read the time on her nonexistent watch. The difficulty in determining the passage of time while stuck inside a windowless coat closet was only one of the things winding up Amy's frustration. She dropped her naked wrist to the floor, the thump coinciding with an irritated grunt.

It was nearing midnight, she assumed anyway. Darlene and Lynn had left their reception hours ago, their exit signaling the departure of most of the elder Linettis and Boyles. The music had cranked up, and the liquor had begun to flow, and Amy had just began to enjoy herself, swaying to the persistent beat in the air.

Amy slumped down in resignation, taking a sad swig from the damned blue bottle before burrowing into a wool coat that had fallen on the cold floor. She couldn't begin to understand the reason for Gina's ruse.

* * *

Gina sidled up to Amy, glassy eyes gleaming with something other than alcohol. Amy would have said she looked downright predatory if anyone had asked.

"Amy Eleanor Santiago-"

"Not my middle name."

Gina had continued as though Amy hadn't even spoken. "- My psychic tells me you haven't been laid in a REALLY long time, not that she would have to tell me that. The way you keep eye-saulting those fire fighters and their button popping pectorals is evidence enough." Gina popped her P's as if to demonstrate.

Amy had been indignant, mouth dropping open to protest Gina's intrusive commentary, but only stilted stuttering had come out. "Ugh, um, uh, eye-sautling? Th-that's not even…"

What Gina said was true to a certain extent, although Amy definitely hadn't been ogling the firefighters, not that they weren't ogle-able. Her attention was focused in an entirely different direction.

Jake was gyrating enthusiastically in the middle of the dance floor, his tie knotted at his forehead, jacket abandoned long ago. Gina had long since dispensed with Charles's playlist, the Beastie Boys currently blasting from the speakers. Jake wasn't a bad dancer, but "good" isn't a word Amy would have used to describe his high energy moves either. He was just so in the moment that people couldn't help but smile and join in. Amy wishes he knew how he did it, living in the moment was as foreign a concept to her as leaving dirty dishes in the sink or not separating her lights and darks. The very idea made her breath short.

Amy had been staring for a while, trying to make her feet carry her to the happy group of people swishing their hips back and forth, but she'd been glued to her spot in the corner for the past twenty minutes.

Gina squeezed her shoulder, painfully actually, to bring her back. "Stop being a loser and go get the firefighter of your dreams, and let him bang you like the sexually frustrated little drum you are." The bottle of alcohol was tilted in Amy's direction, Gina's eyebrows wiggling as she pushed it closer. "Need some courage?"

Normally Amy would have refused Gina's offer. The "don't accept drinks from strangers" rule usually applied ten-fold to Gina (one accidental incident with Kombucha tea had cemented this), but she was sick and tired of being held back by her inhibitions.

She snatched the light blue bottle from her friend's grasp, tipping it back to let the sickly sweet burning liquid pour down her throat. She chugged it until her body protested, throat closing involuntarily against what surely seemed to be poison. Sputtering, she thumped the bottle back down on the table.

Leaving Gina behind without a second thought, Amy strode purposely forward. She looked like a woman on a mission, marching steps carrying her to the polished floor. She had very nearly made it to her target when her courage deserted her.

Swerving at the last moment, she ran smack into one of Gina's firefighters, body flush against rippling muscles as strong hands shot out to steady her.

Dear god, he was a giant, towering a good foot and a half over her, a salacious grin spreading across his face as he took her in. "Sweetheart, if you wanted to dance, all you had to do was ask."

Amy groaned inwardly at the gross way he said "sweetheart" and stifled the urge swiftly shove her knee into his crotch. She took a step back, glancing over her shoulder in Jake's direction.

He wasn't dancing alone anymore, a slim blonde wrapped around him as the song wound down. Disappointment flooded her, shoulders dropping as she turned back to her current companion. He was pleasant to look at, and if he could keep his damn mouth shut for the rest of the night maybe the evening wouldn't be a total loss. "I think my way was just as effective."

His eyebrows shot up in pleasant surprise, clearly expecting a different response. "That it was."

Amy could hear Jake somewhere behind her, yelling to be heard over the music. He'd already used his lamest pickup line on the lithe blonde, and the woman was just eating it up. Amy felt her stomach flip, realizing she'd once again missed her window. NOw she However, the liquid courage that Gina had provided was beginning to make its way into Amy's blood stream. Her lips tingled, the warmth creeping out from her abdomen to all of her limbs. Looking up at the well defined pecs before her, Amy decided she wouldn't let any of it go to waste.

Spinning around, she leaned backward, body flush against her new dance partner. Not that anyone at the precinct knew it, but there was a certain number of drinks that turned Amy into quite the dirty dancer. Her muscles felt loose, pliable in her less than sober state, and she threw her head back in abandon. She giggled. "Nobody puts Amy in the corner!"

"Huh?"

She shook her head, focusing on the way her dance partner's hands roved over her body, fully appreciating the fitted nature of the borrowed dress. Amy felt hot under the touch, closing her eyes to concentrate on the strong hands journeying across her body. Her traitorous mind supplied her with images until the disparity between what she wanted and what she was actually getting became more palatable.

It was easy to pretend it was the familiar messy mop of brown curls she felt when she threw one hand up behind her, and when the firefighter dipped down to nuzzle the column of her throat, her delusional mind told her it was the distinctive curve of a certain detective's nose that sent shivers down her spine. What was wrong with having a little fun? Letting go was difficult for her, so when she felt the tightly coiled energy inside of her unwinding, the blood rushing to some pleasant areas of her body, she accepted it for the rare gift that it was.

The firefighter's hand slipped up to her breast, squeezing the tender flesh. The move snapped Amy back to reality, horror washing over her as she realized what she was about to do. She recoiled, slapping his hand away before she dashed off the dance floor. She could feel the heat burning in her face, and it wasn't entirely because of the alcohol she'd consumed. She wanted to crawl in a hole and die. The next best thing was running home and hiding under the covers until the light of day washed away this mortifying memory.

But she didn't make it to the door before she felt the cool iron grip of one Gina Linetti pulling her away. "Santiago, thank god. I need your help."

"What?"

"My great aunt Gelli lost her antique broach, and she's gonna cut me out of the will if we won't find it. That old bat's sitting on a dragon's hoard the size of Mount Rushmore, and I'm not losing out because of a fugly piece of costume jewelry."

She didn't give Amy a chance to reply, shoving the bottle of vodka into her hands as she dragged her along. "You look in the coat closet, and I'll start checking the handbags of Charles's trashy cousins. I'm counting on you, detective."

* * *

That had been an eternity ago. Amy had halfhearted looked around in the dark before deciding she needed some light. That's when she'd discovered the locked door. Sure, there was a chance that Gina had only accidentally locked her in here, but there had been something devilish in her eyes when describing Aunt Gelli's missing broach.

This was just perfect. This is how weddings always ended for Amy. Drunk and alone, curled up in the dark. Normally she had Netflix and her orthopedic mattress to help her get to sleep, not to mention the discreetly hidden "massager" in her nightstand. As a perpetually single woman, Amy had learned to cope with these feelings.

But here, laying in the floor with entirely too much alcohol coursing through her veins, it was all she could do not to explode into a tantrum, screaming and all. It just wasn't fair. For the first time in so long, it seemed like her and Jake might be on the same page, but his head was turned yet again by the first pretty thing to walk by, and it irked Amy to her very core. In fact, she could feel it building inside of her, combined with the pent up sexual frustration and the feelings she'd pushed down for so long.

Just as she opened her mouth to let loose the first blood curdling scream, the closet door flew open. She could see the silhouettes of two people struggling in the doorframe, before one of them lost his balance and careened forward into the darkness. He landed with a muffled thump and the door slammed shut behind him.

She scrambled into the corner, unsure of what to do. The only available light was streaming in from underneath the door, and she wasn't sure who her new companion was. That is, until she heard him cursing under his breath.

She sat up, squinting as she tried to get a clearer picture. "Jake?"

**A/N: Thanks for reading, next chapter should be up in a relatively short time. I appreciate any and all feedback, and so far I've really enjoyed writing for Jake and Amy.**


	5. Chapter 5

Jake loved weddings. His gregarious personality and his self described "hella sweet" dance moves really had a place to shine. So it was incredibly shocking to him that he'd not been rejected once tonight, but twice. Jake wasn't really sure if he could count Jenny Gildenhorn's defection as an actual loss. It had stung, true, but pursuing Jenny had always been more of a game than anything, and Jake really just didn't like to lose. And sure, a normal person wouldn't have counted Amy's sweet smile as she gently nudged one of Gina's more decrepit relatives his way as a rejection, but Jake couldn't hide the disappointment after spending an entire day listening to her insist that her feelings were in the past.

Jake's stomach had done a little flip when he'd been confronted with the idea of dancing with Amy. He'd still been filled to the brim with the sense of warm camaraderie he always got when working a case with her, and she kept looking at him so strangely. He didn't have full grasp of the implications, but he knew it couldn't have been just the dancing that set his blood racing through his body, his heart knocking against his sternum like he'd just chased a perp up ten flights of stairs. Like any good detective, he filed confusing information away for future perusal.

He danced with his geriatric partner until the song was over, and then politely led her back to her table. He even chatted with her for a little while over the pale pink punch that Gina's mom had insisted on serving, even though everyone under the age of ninety seemed to be partaking in the generously provided open bar.

It wasn't hard to slip back into his normally charming self, laughing at Charles's idiotic stories, fetching drinks for the pretty ladies, for himself. He couldn't help it if his eyes kept wandering around the room, unconsciously seeking out a familiar brunette head. He felt… painfully dissatisfied when he was unable to locate her. He shook his head. It was just more information to add to the Amy file.

Darlene and Lynn exited the reception in a shower of rice and eagerly tossed flowers, swooping down into the waiting limo. It made Jake smile. They really had gone all out for the wedding. It didn't seem to matter that this wasn't the first time for either, or that neither of them had particularly good track records when it came to relationships. They were still going to give it their all.

As if responding to a silent cue, the elderly wedding guests began to stream out of the hall, and the music changed, lights going down so the DJ could start a show worthy of may epileptic seizures. Gina never missed an opportunity for a partay.

Jake took it as a chance to get his bearings back. He was going to enjoy himself tonight, leave all of the evidence piling up in the Amy file to another day. He hadn't seen her in a little while, anyway. He wouldn't be surprised if she'd already gone home and tucked into her favorite flannel pajamas. He could imagine her snuggled up with a John Grisham novel, maybe watching episodes of Jeopardy she'd DVR'd. Surprisingly, the image set his pulse to racing again. He grunted in frustration and stomped over to the bar.

Two dance-offs later, and possibly an entire bottle of the worst knock off tequila he'd ever tried, and Jake was making a fool of himself out on the dance floor. He was hot and sweaty, and there was a cute little blonde wrapped around him, equally hot and sweaty. It was pretty much exactly the way every other wedding he'd ever attended had ended, and he wasn't one to look a gift horse in the mouth.

"You a cop?"

She was yelling over the sound of the music, and Jake had to lean in close to hear her. He nodded, head bobbing up and down to the beat of the music. "Detective."

Her eyes widened, and she pushed in a little closer. It was already boiling in the reception hall, and her added body heat made him reach up to loosen his collar. She took it as an invitation, tracing her tongue down the column of his throat.

"Watch it, that's trespassing without a warrant. You don't want to end up in handcuffs tonight… do you?"

She snickered in response, slipping her hands down to his backside before squeezing, hard. "Maybe."

He laughed, in spite of himself. Might as well have some fun. "Just my luck. I was hoping for a big bust."

Oh, God. It was so lame, but she didn't seem to care, pressing the recently referenced anatomy up against him. Jake gave into it, trailing his hands over the skin tight material of her dress. It stopped several inches above her knees, and he began to slip two fingers beneath the hem.

His dance partner spun him around, and suddenly his vision was filled a sight that filled him with blinding jealousy. There she was, her brunette hair falling in waves around her flushed face, and she was most definitely not in her flannel jammies, or reading a boring legal novel. She was entwined with a norse god that was twice her size, moving sensually in time with the music. Sensually? Amy Santiago?

Jake's throat went dry with desire, watching Thor (a firefighter of all people!) take liberties with her body that Jake had only dared to fantasize about in the safety of his dark bedroom. The disco lights cascaded across her skin, leaving her tinted a faint blue, sparkling with the sheen of sweat. Jake had a hard time believing this wasn't just another one of his early morning dreams, the ache of desire was certainly familiar enough.

The other man's head dropped down the suck hungrily at the skin of Amy's neck. Her eyes were closed, mouth slightly open in pleasure as she swayed. Jake felt his jaw clench, even as the slim blonde nuzzling at his own neck continued to pull at him. Just as he was about to pull away, take his leave of this stupid party, the firefighter's blunt tipped fingers became more adventurous, dragging roughly up her body to squeeze at the small firm globe of her breast.

Jake saw red, nostrils flaring as he forced himself to breathe normally. Before he could say anything stupid, Amy jerked away, a look of horror on her face as she fled the dance floor. The firefighter only shrugged and moved on to the closest gyrating body.

Jake pushed his own dance partner away, ignoring her indignant squeak, as he pushed his way through the heated press, following the Thor lookalike all the way to the bar. Good judgment temporarily absent in the was of tequila fueled jealousy, Jake hooked his hand through the man's arm and tried to spin him around. It was only half successful, earning Jake a baleful glare as the giant slowly turned to face him.

Jake took a swing, knuckles crashing painfully on the bridge of the taller man's nose. Hell, punching someone directly in the face hurt worse than anyone ever talked about, and Jake always seemed to forget. He wound up to go at it again with his uninjured hand, but immediately felt multiple people pulling at him from behind, his feet lifting up off the floor.

Thor's comrades were dragging him back across the dance area, probably intent on just throwing him out. These were Gina's friends after all, it's not like they would wail on a drunken idiot who was half their size. He struggled in their grasp.

Suddenly, an angel appeared in front of him. Well, maybe not an angel. She was glaring pretty hard. "Jakey, Jakey, Jakey…." The familiar whine was one he'd been hearing since childhood. "What the hell is wrong with you? I've told you time and time again, knee to the balls, end of story." Gina rolled her eyes. "Men are so stupid, with their notions of fair fights." She turned to Amy's former dance partner, sidling up to him. "Oh, you poor thing, come with me, mama will fix you right up."

She led him away, tossing a command over her shoulder as she departed. "Put my little buddy in time out, boys. You know where."

Before Jake could protest he was being dragged in yet another direction, this time away from the heat and noise of the celebration. He twisted fruitlessly, kicking out his feet. They were flailing a good six inches from the floor as he contemplated an alternate escape route.

They paused in front of the door to the coat closet, and Jake saw his opportunity for freedom. He dashed away, only to be caught by the collar and tossed into the dark coat closet. He landed on the floor with a thud, the breath knocked out of him, a bruise undoubtedly forming on his shoulder. He supposed it could have been worse. He probably deserved a broken nose for his troubles.

He finally caught his breath, rolling over on to his back. It only took him a moment to realize someone else was in the closet with him, breathing as quietly as possible. He let out a soft little curse, and started to move toward the person.

"Jake?"

The sound of his name stopped him in his tracks, his stomach fluttering in response to the familiar voice. Embarrassment flooded him, encouraged by the oceans of tequila still sloshing around in his stomach. His head dropped to his hands, and he mumbled out a fairly obvious statement. "So you're in timeout, too."

"Huh?"

She was still nothing more than a dark blob hiding in the corner. He scooted closer to her in an attempt to see her face. His eyes began to adjust to the darkness, and could see the faint outline of her chin, the tiny bits of reflected light in her eyes.

Reaching out to touch her, Jake misjudged the distance between them and palmed her face, inadvertently cupping one of her cheeks. He told himself to withdraw, but the warm velvety feel of her skin beneath his fingers was something he'd thought about far too often. He simply waited for her to recoil.

A moment passed, then another, and Jake's fingers began to trace small circles on her cheek, inching closer and closer to lips, until finally the pad of his thumb brushed against her bottom lip. His adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed hard, and she still didn't make a move to get away.

He opened his mouth, to ask one of the dozen questions perched on his vocal chords, but she suddenly lunged forward, barreling him over. For the second time in less than ten minutes Jake had the breath knocked out of him, this time by his enthusiastic partner.

Something heavy dropped to the floor beside them, rolling away with a hollow thud. Amy was flush against him, nuzzling against his neck. She took a deep breath, her chest bumping against his, before finding his lips with her own.

Her kisses were sloppy, dropping first on one corner of his mouth and then another. She eagerly parted the seam of his lips before tentatively probing with her tongue. Jake let her take the lead, too stunned to respond at first, his hands eventually finding her waist as he began to kiss her back.

Suddenly she did withdraw, and Jake felt disappointment heavy in his limbs. Reeling back sharply, she pressed the back of one hand against her mouth, and scrambled further into the closet.

Jake continued where she'd left him, trying to think of some way to make this situation less awkward. Then he heard it, the pained retching coming from the corner Amy had retreated to.

"Damn Gina and her gross vodka." Amy sighed, crawling away from the furs she'd yacked all over.

Jake just stared, finally bursting into laughter. "Did you just puke on a mink coat?"

Her mouth dropped open in an indignant little 'oh.' "Fur is murder, Jake." She insisted.  
"They deserved it."

He smiled, reaching for her. She let him drag her into the corner furthest from the mess she'd just made, not questioning why it felt okay to simply lay her head on his chest here in the dark. "Jake, we have to get out of here." She yawned, drowsiness enveloping her. Embarrassment tried to latch onto her, but she just didn't have the strength for it.

"I know… I know." He stroked her hair, following it's line all the way down her back before starting at the top again. Amy wasn't the only one afflicted with sudden exhaustion. "Just… give me... a minute."

She did, and one minute turned into five, and five to ten. It didn't take long for the coat closet to fill with the sound of contented snores.

**A/n: Thanks so much for continuing to read. I think it'll only be a couple more chapters. :D**


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